


Bathtime

by boltshok



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltshok/pseuds/boltshok
Summary: After being injured, a very irate Prowl must rely upon Jazz for a bath...





	Bathtime

“Now Prowler, Ah know ya don' like dis,” Jazz tells him. “But ya gotta showa.”

“You're right,” Prowl points out obstinately. “I need to bathe...”

“Ah'll carry you,” Jazz tells Prowl softly, bending over slightly to look down at the Praxian. Prowl lifts his doorwings as Jazz comes closer, and Jazz nuzzles him softly.

“C'mon, Prowler,” Jazz murmurs, sliding his arms under Prowl, one under his legs and one under his back. 

Jazz lifts him smoothly. Prowl hisses softly in pain, clutching onto Jazz's breastplate. Jazz cradles him close, turning for the door. After Jazz exits, he shuts the door quietly with his foot and hurries to the locking washracks nearby. Upon entering the washracks, Jazz sit Prowl very carefully in one of the bathing chairs, shutting the door and locking it. Prowl arranges himself, trying to alleviate some of the pain in his doorwings. 

Jazz walks up behind him, hands sliding down Prowl's panels to brush his inner struts. “Shh,” he murmurs, rubbing gently. Prowl stills, whole frame quieting as he feels Jazz's knowing fingers knead into his struts. After a few minutes of rubbing, Jazz pulls off Prowl's panel cloths and subspaces them. Next, he unclips Prowl's breastplate and takes it off, putting it in the steamer. Piece by piece, he undresses Prowl, and then undresses himself.

On the wall are the shower controls, and he fiddles with them until the showers are up and running. Warm, blissful steam fills the room, misting Jazz's visor. Jazz eases the bathing chair under one of the light shower heads, gentle water pattering down onto Prowl's back and shoulders. Prowl winces as the water runs over new welds.

“Ahh, Jazz...” he gasps, arching away from the water. Jazz instantly moves him away, pulling him out of the water. 

“Prowler-”

“Jazz, I really am not in the mood for bathing today,” Prowl mutters sourly. Jazz crouches in front of him, looking up at Prowl curiously.

“Really?” he asks, studying Prowl's face. A little knowing smile crosses his lips. “I think you're just... frustrated.”

“Frustrated?” Prowl demands, doorwings rising in a harsh motion. He doesn't get a chance to finish his demand, as Jazz strokes his spike gently. Intakes hiccuping, Prowl grips the arms of the bathing chair a little tighter. “Jazz-” he rasps, and the saboteur captures his lips in a kiss.

When Jazz breaks the kiss, he draws himself back to Prowl's lap. His mouth descends to Prowl's spike, and Prowl's eyes flutter shut. Soft suckling noises fill the washracks, along with Prowl's hushed whimpers and moans. Prowl’s hands find the back of Jazz’s helm and hang on, fingertips brushing the sensitive horns atop Jazz’s helm. Jazz purrs around the spike in his mouth as Prowl lightly fingers the horns. 

Prowl’s moans divest into whimpers and mewls as the attention given to his spike increases. Jazz smiles to himself and continues to lick. The grip on the back of jazzs helm slowly grows tighter, until Prowl is panting and practically rutting into Jazz’s mouth. 

“Jazz,” Prowl gasps. “Jazz, Jazz I'm-”

Hot transfluid fills Jazz’s throat, and the black and white mech eagerly swallows it. Prowl’s grip, painfully tight, releases as his overload subsides. Jazz moves away from Prowl’s spike, a pleased little smile tickling his lips. “Told ya. Frustrated.”

Prowl slumps back into the bathing chair, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps so...”


End file.
